


Two Invisible!Bilbo Pornlets

by Rubynye



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Clothed Sex, Ficlet, Kink Meme, M/M, Public Sex, Singing, invisible!Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:11:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two short porny stories featuring an invisible Bilbo. "Into These Arms Again" is Bilbo/Thorin and "The Stars Were Pale" is Bilbo/Bofur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Into These Arms Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leaper182](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leaper182/gifts).



Title: Into These Arms Again  
Pairing: Bilbo/Thorin  
Content Advisory: Invisible!Partner Sex (Consensual, fear not.)  
Title from Annie Lennox's "[Love Song for a Vampire](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/annielennox/lovesongforavampire.html)" for no good reason.  
  


In reclaimed Erebor, Thorin the King bids his companions good night before departing into the dim halls of his city, their home. He murmurs to Balin and Dwalin that he needs an evening's solitude to clear his head after so many momentous events, then leaves them all behind and strides confidently into the darkness. So they let him go, turning back to firelight and triumph and plans, and none marks where he wanders, nor the silent footsteps that follow his.

So there is none to watch as Thorin finds a council chamber lit by a silvery drift of moonlight, to see him settle into a kingly chair of smooth stone and tip his head back, his hair a dark cape over his shoulders, his eyes closing as he exhales. There is none to mark his eyelids' tremble as a strand of his hair twitches upwards, as his over-tunic and trousers flatten in curious patches, as his undertunic seemingly unlaces itself, baring his throat. An oval patch of skin, low by his shoulder, slowly glistens and reddens as Thorin's steady breathing grows slowly rougher, as his overtunic shifts upwards of its own volition, crumpling round his waist. His hand rises and sinks again as if pushed down, he breathes a rumbling laugh that slides into a deeper sigh as his trousers flatten and curve over his burgeoning member.

For long moments Thorin sits, breathing harshly, still but for his twitching eyelashes and the pulse thumping in his throat. Another red oval slowly appears over that pulse, the blood pulled to the skin, and Thorin's head tips back further, his lips part and quiver, the lower pushes out as if tugged. Now he lifts both hands, bringing them together before his chest, but they close on empty air and he looks up with eyes wild and dark. For the first time he speaks, asking the dimness, "Where are you?"

There is no answer but a whisper of air that might be a puff of draft or a low-voiced chuckle. Panting, hair tossing, Thorin looks about wildly, groping around him; then he stills on a deeper breath, closes his eyes again, tips his head back in apparent surrender, and lays down his hands on the armrests. Five more slow breaths, a sixth, and his whole frame trembles as his waistband lifts, the front of his trousers rippling rhythmically. Thorin's hips rise and his trousers slip down them, his prick and eggs bared to the night air and already taut with rousedness.

His sack rolls slowly, tightening further, gleaming a wet dusky red; his prick trembles against his belly, skin sliding up and down in the same rippling rhythm from before, the vein along the underside throbbing purple with his pulse. For long moments Thorin sits still as the stone beneath him except for his chest rising and falling with desperate breaths, except for the fine glitter of sweat rising on his brow and hands, except for his oscillating prick. It twitches fiercely and he gasps aloud, clutching the armrests with bloodless fingers, tremors finally shuddering through him. "Please," rips hoarsely from his throat, "by the love you bear me, please let me --"

His begging breaks on a shattering cry as his prick jerks, pulsing as in a fierce peak, and even after the pulses cease it continues to sway slightly, side to side. Thorin gasps raggedly, eyelids crumpled shut, lashes shivering upon his reddened cheekbones; as the noise of his breathing dies down a soft wet slurping can be discerned, interspersed with a tongue's sliding licks. At length Thorin slumps in the chair, permitting himself an unstrung moment and a soft pleased smile, and flat patches appear upon his thighs as his trousers squirm back up into place, then broad dents show in the cloth over his shoulders. His head tilts sideways, his lips parting and shifting as his hair wriggles and lifts.

And then Bilbo Baggins appears, kneeling upon Thorin's thighs, arms round his neck as their mouths trade caresses. Never breaking the kiss, Bilbo slips one hand briefly into his pocket and returns it to Thorin's hair where the other clung all along, his lips upon Thorin's until Thorin looses a warm sated sigh over them. Then Bilbo sits back on his haunches, licks his lips, and smiles as Thorin smiles upon him, as Thorin lifts both hands to cup his head, fingers threading into his hair, and murmurs, "Ah, there you are."


	2. The Stars Were Pale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strangest thing happens on Bofur's walk back.

Title: The Stars Were Pale  
Pairing: Bilbo/Bofur  
Summary: The strangest thing happens on Bofur's walk back.  
Content Advisory: More consensual invisible!partner!sex! This time it's also public sex for good measure! Plus singing, to boot.  
Title from Tolkien's "Merry Old Inn" with very good reason.

 

"And there they brew a beer so brown, that the Man in the Moon himself came down…" Bofur sang to himself as he walked along one of Laketown's planked streets in the golden afternoon. He loves his kin and Company, but it's nice sometimes to nip out for a bit of air and ale, to find a few moments alone and then trade friendly words with some new faces. As he'd chatted Bofur carved a little bird just to busy his hands, but one of the Men even bought it off him for enough to pay his tab and more. Now he wandered back to the Company's lodgings before Bifur and Bombur could worry, singing a drinking-song, basking in the sunshine. 

Then someone tapped his shoulder. "Huh?" Bofur turned round, but the street was empty for several houses' length, older ladies strolling at one end, some workmen at the other. And that tap again, at his other shoulder. He spun the other way, but saw nothing again, just a shadowed alley between a windowless wall and a high fence. 

A sharp pinch to his rump made him jump round with an outraged, "Hey!" His reaching fingers brushed something that might have been cloth, or perhaps just eddying air; then unseen hands grabbed his coat and hauled him backwards into the alley. "Hoy!" Bofur windmilled, stumbling four whole steps before he could tug free, but he only took one forward before an invisible weight hit his chest and knocked him into the wall, just like a person hugging him down to the creases banding his coat. Someone he couldn't see. 

He could feel them, though, thick layers of cloth and a sturdy laddish form beneath his hands. "Got you!" The only answer was a soft laugh brushing his face, and he felt rather caught himself. "Who are you?" he asked, feeling his unseen companion shift in his hold. "Are you friend or --mmph!" All he saw was the square-sided house across from him and the alley's dusty wooden paving, but that was a mouth he felt upon his, lips plumply soft and slightly chapped, tongue lithely cheeky, tasting of sweet smoke and lively warmth. It was a kiss worth returning, no matter its strangeness, and really, Bofur thought as his blood caught that sweet heat, a little strangeness might lend a merry spice. So he squeezed his invisible snogger, finding him plush over firm solidity, and kissed back for all he was worth.

When his eyes fell shut and his mind's eye filled in his lad it became a smooch as sweet as any, and when it broke Bofur felt a little sigh brush his cheek, and had to smile. "Liked that, my transparent chap?" That won him a cheery huff and another kiss as he was pressed all the more firmly to the wall, as he watched his breeches' placket seemingly unlatch itself and felt hot little fingers push inside.

Between the kiss and the press Bofur lost all his breath, and when his mouth was freed it was his turn to gasp; there was a faint grunt as the wall creaked, then a sigh-soft chuckle in his ear and whispered words, "Keep singing." The fingers left and came back slicked, and then -- oh, that was plumper and smoother than a finger, tucking sleekly alongside his prick, and that was a pair of thighs tightening round his hips. 

Bofur felt carefully along them, watching his hands curve, striving not to groan under the warm fondling, till his palms found pert round buttocks to squeeze and support, his arms hefting a lovely weight. "Sing?" he asked the air before him, and felt a laugh puff over his throat, a wavy-curly head tuck beneath his chin. "What songs do unseeable lads like?"

"Keep on with the one from before." The whisper was raspy now, but Bofur too felt the grand strain, his whole body pulling taut beneath the press of stroking fingers encircling and sliding cock pressing against his prick. 

Scraping together a little presence of mind, Bofur saw that his fly splayed out and tunic hung round so that, to a brief glance, he might look like a lad leaning on a fence warbling to himself, not one being ravished by an invisible lover. He gulped a breath and began from the top, "There is an inn, a merry old inn…" his voice cracking and slurring as hot breath surged across his throat and clever fingers chafed pleasure into him.

To look, even on naught, made it too much to last, and Bofur squeezed his eyes shut, clung to the solidity he could feel, and sang breathlessly. The song unfurled behind his eyes, the dancing cow and fiddling cat and the Man in the Moon shining in his sleep upon the floor; hips twitched against his, bumping his arse into the creaking wall, the warm flesh in his hold trembled upwards and up, hauling him delightedly along. Deep quivers took them both upon, "with a ping and a pang the fiddle-strings bro-oke!", Bofur's voice breaking as bright sparks of teeth scraped his throat and his spine snapped taut in ecstasy, shudder by glorious shudder. 

From soaring like the cow over the Moon as pale glittering stars whizzed beneath his eyelids, Bofur sank down breath by breath back into himself, his knees locked against slumping, his arms burning pleasantly under their lovely burden, his chest heaving under the sweet weight of another gasping body. On hearing a low groan he smiled, on feeling a shift and then hearing fingers being sucked he grinned, but he left his eyes shut, let himself rest propped against the wall until he felt his lapels grasped in small strong fists, felt warm slick lips press between his beard and mustache and then slide across his bottom lip. 

He tipped his head into the kiss, savoring his own bitter salt on that sweet tongue, and opened his eyes to see Bilbo pink-cheeked and crinkle-eyed, clinging to his jacket, toes gripping the wall. "You cheeky thing," he said admiringly, and watched Bilbo's grin spread across his rosy face.

"You didn't finish the song," Bilbo answered, pecked a kiss on Bofur's nose, and shimmied down to set his feet either side of Bofur's. 

Bofur squeezed him companionably till he huffed, then let go so they might make themselves decent again, and had a grand laugh when Bilbo flourished out the dun rag he'd given him for a handkerchief these long months ago. As he tucked himself away carefully Bofur breathed till he'd caught his wind, as he straightened his clothes he picked up the song again, and by the time he began the last verse Bilbo was laughing and singing along, leaning warmly upon his shoulder as they strolled back to the slanting-sunlit street. 

"The round Moon rolled behind the hill,  
as the Sun raised up her head.  
She hardly believed her fiery eyes;  
For though it was day, to her surprise  
they all went back to bed!"

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt both are based on:
> 
>  
> 
> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/5821.html?thread=14071485#t14071485
> 
> leaper182   
> Mar. 24th, 2013 10:39 am (local)  
> Invisible sex, role-play, full-con! (Boffins or Bagginshield)  
> So, I keep seeing invisible sex prompts, but I like the idea of Bilbo and his partner actually talking about it, and trying it out.
> 
> The partner is just pretending to not know what's happening.


End file.
